Desperate
by Lavenderangel
Summary: Daisy doesn't do boyfriends. But maybe, maybe she does girlfriends. Onesided femslash.


Title: Desperate

Author: Lauren:

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Daisy centric femslash. That means girls loving girls. If that offends you, leave now.

Summary: Daisy doesn't do boyfriends. But maybe, maybe she does girlfriends.

Spoilers: Set after 1-17.

Author's notes: First Higher Ground fic I've done in a while, but rewatching has made me Shelby/Daisy subtext happy. If the idea strikes me, I might do more. Hope you enjoy, and constructive comments are always welcome. Constructive comments do not include dislike of the pairing, by the way.

Disclaimer: Familiar characters and events referenced do not belong to me.

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Her breathing is jagged as she jerks awake. The blankets are half off her bed, sweat mixing with the twisted sheets along her body.

Daisy pulls in air, willing herself to calm down. She pushes hair off her face, rubbing at the sweat beginning to dry there.

"Fuck," she says matter-of-factly, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. This wouldn't be so mortifying if she could remember the dream that has reduced her to this. But all Daisy remembers is the terror which pulled her roughly into consciousness.

Her breaths are still ragged and dimly, she is aware of the drip of tears on her face. She leans back into her pillow, biting back a whimper that cries for release.

She tries to see through her idiotic crying, needing affirmation she hasn't woken anyone else up. Katherine's unintentional superiority and Juliette's sniveling concern are not something she can take right now.

But the one she really can't handle is Shelby. Because if Shelby sees her like this, she won't speak. She'll press close, arms fierce around her.

And she won't leave. She'll imply that breaking down like this is okay, and that if Daisy wants her to, Shelby will stay like this forever. Warm embrace, soft hair, those blue eyes that can spark with teasing one minute, and be full of soft understanding the next, not that the bitch would admit it.

Daisy chokes on another sob, her attempts to suppress it only making it louder. Damn it.

She concentrates on her breathing, fighting to pull air passed the lump that seems to have taken up permanent residence. Too bad it's not strong enough to keep back her louder cries, she thinks wryly.

She should not be having this problem. She was able to keep all this shit out of her system for years, all black makeup and spewing semi-insightful bullshit her only release.

But then her mother died and her father remotely cared and Shelby held her for nearly all the car ride home, even while she cried. And Sophie never said a word, or tried to touch her, and even let Shelby order coke when they stopped for dinner.

Somehow, that has done something to her. Something that makes her fine during the day, but wake up like this, half hysterical, in the middle of the night.

And it does not help, of course, that Shelby always seems to wake up along with her. That she has no problem slipping into bed with Daisy, touching and soothing even though Daisy knows being physical is still hard for her.

But it's hard for Daisy, too - when Shelby is concerned. Because when she starts, Daisy never wants her to stop. The brush of her hand or the squeeze of an arm, all that makes Daisy's insides shift and twist, desperately.

Daisy doesn't do boyfriends, and she thought that meant she didn't do love, period. Hasn't worked for her in the past, no reason to start now.

But maybe, because it's not like she's fucked up enough already, right? Maybe she does girlfriends. And maybe she wants Shelby for one.

This thought makes another sob bubble up inside her and Daisy feels the tremor in her shoulders as it is released against her will. Her hands muffle it to the best of her abilities, but she hears the stirring in the beds around her.

Lying back, she curls in on herself, pressing her head into her pillow and begging the tears to fall silently.

"Shelby?" Daisy is afraid she's somehow spoken without meaning to, but then she hears movement from Juliette's bed.

"What?" Shelby replies from her own bed, situated closer to Daisy's. Great positioning for private conversations, but bad for times like these, when Daisy can't bear to look at her.

"I heard..." Half awake, Juliette seems years younger. "Is something wrong?"

"Nah, it's fine." Daisy can hear the suppressed irritation in Shelby's voice, and she is proud.

"Then why are you awake, if you didn't hear something, too?" Daisy holds her breath, willing Juliette to shut up and for Shelby to go back to sleep so she can just get this out of her system and go on hating herself.

"Cause you're talking to me at 4AM, Princess." The lack of anger in Shelby's retort seems to take them all by surprise. "Just go back to sleep, okay?"

Juliette doesn't answer, and the room is quiet. Daisy feels fresh tears spilling against the pillow, and she's not sure why.

The sobs start fighting for dominance over her again, so she doesn't hear as Juliette's breathing evens out. She doesn't hear the rustle of sheets, or the brush of bare feet across the cabin floor. Daisy feels though, from far off, the shift as her mattress dips with new weight.

"You know," Shelby murmurs, suddenly right next to her. "Barely letting yourself breathe is not going to help this."

The sobs come harder, beginning to make Daisy tremble all over. "This... is... your... fault," she whimpers, not looking at Shelby, just wanting this to be over.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I will never try and be compassionate again. How dare I show concern." Daisy isn't sure if Shelby means any of this, or is trying to make Daisy relax.

It only makes her cry harder. Shelby reaches down, pulling at her shirt. "Come here," she says quietly. Daisy sits up because there's nothing she wants more than to be touched by Shelby, even though it's for all the wrong reasons.

Shelby's arms lock around Daisy's neck, fierce and desperate, like she's the one upset. Daisy returns the embrace with fervor, tears gushing against Shelby's neck and wetting the side of her blond hair.

"Shhh," Shelby whispers, a hand sliding over Daisy's shoulders. Her attempts at comfort make Daisy want to kiss her, which only increases the hysteria.

She cries, hard but quiet, never loosening her grip on Shelby. The fact Shelby's arms also remain just as tight is a comfort, and slowly, Daisy feels the tears abating.

"I told you breathing helps," Shelby whispers against her hair. "God, you're so messed up."

"L-like you aren't?"

"Least I'm quiet about it."

"Fuck off," Daisy chokes.

"Tsk tsk tsk, Lipenowski. I should report such terrible language."

"I hate you," Daisy tells her, voice cracking. Whether this is due to laughter or tears, neither are sure.

"I'm sure you do." Shelby pulls back and an unexpected stab of panic slices through Daisy.

"You finally coming to your senses and leaving?"

"Yeah, but I'm taking you with me. Your bed's a mess." Shelby stands, grasping Daisy's wrist in the dark room. Somehow, as they walk the short distance to the blonds' bed, Daisy has grasped Shelby's hand.

Shelby slides back into bed, pulling Daisy down with her. For someone so rough, Shelby's blankets feel much softer than Daisy's as they are pulled around her. Shelby's arm settles over Daisy's waste, casually intimate.

"Thanks," daisy whispers. Tears slip out again without her realizing, landing on Shelby's hair.

"Mm, whatever." The arm around her tightens though, Shelby's fingers sliding in random shapes against Daisy's bare skin.

Daisy is still not sure what woke her. She still wants to do things to Shelby that Scott has the luxury of, like holding her hand and kissing her face.

But somehow, she is soothed. Shelby has that unnerving effect on her, Daisy reflects as she falls asleep. Along with many others, for that matter.


End file.
